


A Little Death

by schemingreader



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schemingreader/pseuds/schemingreader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hurt/comfort Snarry fic in Spenserian stanzas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethbethbeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethbethbeth/gifts).



**A Little Death**

 

1\. Spenserian stanzas aren't the same verse form  
As [Eliyahu Levita once chose  
To write the tale of Buovo](http://www.forward.com/articles/11529/), to perform  
A cultural translation, one that rose  
To levels unattainable by prose.  
There's nothing like a great enduring work  
Of Yiddish writing. Though I don't suppose  
That [Buovo](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bevis_of_Hampton) was a traitor and a jerk--  
Great knights don't have to smolder, skulk and sulk and lurk.

2\. I tell a tale of Snape, that bitter man  
Whose love was squeezed from him like blood from stone  
Like juices from a sour lemon, ran   
And left him bleeding, hopeless and alone  
And left him, hoping that he had atoned  
And left him, dying, on that dusty floor  
With death's cold fingers rattling his bones  
Though peace was creeping on him, smug and sure  
He'd die there, in the Shack, and love's reward endure.

3\. But something must go wrong, when you are Snape  
When even your first name sounds like "severe"  
When you have swooped around in your black cape   
When you have billowed, bellowed, whispered, sneered  
You think you die at peace? That would be weird   
When some think "drama" is your middle name.  
No, you won't die, though through the Veil you've peered  
No, you won't die, and Potter is to blame  
That stupid hero boy must save you, more's the shame.

4\. No one had warned you that he might return  
Might find you, still alive and coughing gore  
Might yet survive, and in surviving, learn  
That no one living cared about you more.  
The boy who lived to lift you from the floor  
And in his arms, he didn't use a wand.  
You do not mean to groan, but you are sore  
Say pain near death, so he can understand!  
He has to know. He traps your fingers in his hand.

 

5\. "We thought that you were dead," he must explain  
Shut up now, Potter, hush, you idiot child  
Just let me die now, let this ceaseless pain  
Come to an end. Let me, alone, reviled  
Draw my last breath. Don't pat my arm and smile  
I wanted to see Lily now, not you  
Why am I here, my love has been defiled.  
You're raving now, you're feverish and wild  
He ought to leave you, from those lovely eyes exiled.

6\. "He's not a boy," your thudding heart declares  
You rested your weak head against his chest  
And bounced against it, up the flights of stairs.  
He, panting, gasping, never stopped to rest  
As though your life were yet another test  
That he must pass, to prove that he could save  
What should have died, to prove that he could best  
His fear of death, and what's more, to be brave--  
As brave as Lily, whose bright love, like you, he craved.

7\. "I'll tell you all about her if you'll leave,"  
You whisper to him, though it makes no sense.  
"You'll tell about her?" No, he can't believe  
You'll give him what he wants, though it's immense.  
He looks at you, you see he is incensed  
But quelling it because he thinks you're ill.  
"You will not die this time," he says, intense  
He means to keep you living by his will.  
You nearly laugh, he's so much Potter's child, still.

8."I'm staying here," says Harry, and you sigh.  
You close your eyes to shut out all his friends  
Who finally noticed that he has the spy  
Right where he wants him. Now so much depends  
On whether Poppy hates you, or defends  
Your right to sleep here, as you often did  
When you were younger and your mum would send  
Her cold but gentle letters you kept hid  
You were a secret, frail and lonely little kid.

9\. And when you drift to sleep, there are no dreams  
There is no fear, for all the fears came true  
And now you are alive, bandaged, and clean  
With Harry Potter sitting next to you  
It is absurd, to think what you've been through  
Since first you had to be under the matron's care.  
Oh Lily, what if I had saved you, too--  
"What's that?" he asks. He leans back in the chair.  
He'll be asleep soon too, but you don't care. He's there.

 

10."The Dark Lord's dead?" you ask him, once awake.  
"He seems to be," he says, "He did come back."   
"The first time that you killed him." "A mistake--   
"You meant that Lily killed him," the attack  
Returns you to your mind, a shadow, black,  
A bad taste in your mouth, your blood you think  
"I meant, it wasn't me," he says, his slack  
Grip tightens on you, pale cheeks turning pink.  
"I'm sorry," he says. From his awkward touch, you shrink.

11\. "And even this time," he says, forging on   
"I know you killed him, much more so than I,  
"I understand now, know that I was wrong,  
"I understand--" "No, Potter, that's a lie,  
"You couldn't know. You would have let me die."  
He smooths the cover. "You still wish for death?  
"I thought it was the fever. Wait, I'll try--"  
He feels your forehead. You suck in a breath.  
(How do you like the sexual tension, [](http://bethbethbeth.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**bethbethbeth**](http://bethbethbeth.dreamwidth.org/)?)

12\. "I'm suicidal because I deserve  
"To die for what I've done, for whom I've killed."  
("Don't stroke my hair!" you scream inside, unnerved.)  
"Christ, Potter, stop! I wonder if you're ill."  
"What, me? No, I--" "Surely you've had your fill,  
"Of death, near death, deatheaters, the Dark Lord  
"And those who followed him. Say what you will,  
"I've done my duty to you, brought the Sword,  
"Now you can leave, unless you need a pill  
"Or healing potion. Madame Pomfrey works here, still."

13\. "All right," he says, and he withdraws his hand.  
He hasn't lost his temper. He's confused.   
"You loved my mother, I don't understand  
Why you hate me, and why you have refused  
To tell me--something. If I have abused  
Your patience, it's because I didn't know--"  
"You weren't supposed to know," your voice accused  
You meant to show compassion, not to show  
Your helpless irritation. Would he go? "Just go."

14\. Now finally you're alone and you can try  
To pull yourself together and get out  
Now that you know he's living, you won't cry  
For Lily's losses--your private grief about   
Her poor child's death--her boy with that sad lout--   
Whom you dislike, and who should feel hate for you.  
He will not follow, he'll just sit and pout  
If you escape--you're almost sure it's true  
If you can't die, you'll disappear and fade from view.

15\. It's only a few weeks that you're alone   
Three peaceful weeks. All right, at first you're sick   
At every meal. You kneel before the throne   
And vomit dinner. Now you're not so quick   
To eat at all, and when you do, you pick  
Dry toast and tea. Except you're out of bread  
And you're not hungry. Unwound clocks still tick  
In your dark house, where still you lie abed  
Asleep, not dreaming, never wishing you were dead.

 

16\. You hear the four young voices on the stair  
It is not Potter, but four other kids.   
It isn't as though Potter really cares  
You feel surprised that anybody did.   
Although you are the one who ran and hid.  
But there are four--a senior from each house?  
And all the students know just what you did.  
"Listen, Malfoy, don't be [a big girl's blouse](http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-big3.htm)."   
"Oh shut up, Abbott. He's my head of fucking house."

17\. "Let Luna go," you hear another voice.  
"At least she got good marks in Potions Class."   
"And in Defence," as though they had a choice  
Since Lovegood's braver than the rest en masse  
And clever too, no, she was not an ass  
You would not hex her, though she can be strange.   
She won't behave as though you're made of glass  
She'll tell the truth, and ask it in exchange.   
They're coming in, all four, before it's all arranged.

18\. Malfoy begins to weep. Longbottom, kind,  
Pats Malfoy's back. Abbott's face is pale.  
"We've come to get you, sir. Hope you don't mind,  
Harry said we had to, without fail."  
Like Lovegood, she stands fast and doesn't quail.  
"We need you, sir," says Lovegood to the air.  
"Malfoy, don't cry, it's not your fault he's frail.  
He'll be all right." "As though you really care!"  
Snarls Malfoy, "Condescension is too much to bear."

19\. "But friendship's not. Professor, come with us.  
You did so much for us, let us repay  
You. Please sir, let us now regain your trust   
We'll take you back to Hogwarts. Home. Today."  
You open up your mouth, but cannot say  
More than, "All right." You are so very weak.  
The four are like the founders of the school   
You are so tired that you can barely speak  
And what to say, when they are young and you are cruel?

20\. Using your wand, you make your body light  
You can pretend to have the strength to rise  
As always you've pretended. Every fight,  
The first task is to fool the others' eyes,  
The operating method of skilled spies   
You make it out of bed and to the Floo.  
You find the powder and you are surprised  
It's as though it's what you meant to do.  
You stagger out and Potter's waiting there for you.

21\. "Unhand me," you say weakly, but his hold  
Is strong. He doesn't mean to let you go.  
His hands are warm, but his green eyes are cold  
"I've told you I won't let you die, you know  
"So stop this nonsense. You're still ill. It shows."  
"And who are you to--Potter, not so fast,"  
His look is all compassion and he slows.  
You never thought you'd see that look at last  
In such green eyes, especially not those.  
"We'll get you well," he says, and he's so very close.

22\. You shut your eyes and his embrace is warm  
To walk you to the bed, you know that's all,  
But his strong heart is beating by your arm  
You hadn't noticed that he'd got this tall.   
"Lie down," he says, though you're about to fall.  
"I'm sorry, Harry," says your traitor mouth,   
"I'm sorry that I might die, after all,   
And suddenly I want to live. The truth   
to tell, I haven't felt like living since my youth."

23\. "You just need food," he says, and are those tears?  
He settles you in bed and pets your cheek  
What does that mean from someone of his years?   
It's like something a mother does. What freaks   
You are, or maybe he is--you're just weak  
To want someone who's young, handsome and strong  
You're all but dead, or else you wouldn't speak  
But he is tender, and you know it's wrong  
For him to give his heart where it does not belong.

 

24\. You hope you didn't give yourself away  
When you called his first name--of course, you did.   
You gave him all your memories that day  
And all this loving stuff is just a bid  
To get more Lily, or show he is her kid.   
But Dumbledore was right, you do love him.   
And it was better, keeping that well hid  
From Harry and from you. The candles swim,  
You're either passing out, or they are growing dim.

25.  
You drink their broth, and potions, and weak tea  
Another week of lying in a bed  
Each day, another student quietly  
Sits doing homework right beside your head  
Or they play Wizard's Chess with you, instead.  
It isn't always Potter who is there  
But it is Potter who comes every day  
While you try to pretend you do not care  
And don't yearn to get up, and bathe, and wash your hair.

 

26\. The kindness that they show you hurts your heart  
And warms it, too; you've never been the one  
The students liked. You've never had the art  
Of showing feelings, ever, not like some--  
Except for raging and the odd tantrum.  
Right now you're feeling something odd inside  
Something like pleasure, when you see him come  
Into the room, and also perverse pride  
In not admitting you are glad to have survived.

27\. "You're looking well!" he says. It isn't true.  
At least you're looking clean and not so ill  
But you'd think, from the way he looks at you  
That you were something special, like he's thrilled  
His smile is just like Lily's, though he's still  
James Potter's son, and that, you can't forget  
He thinks you'll love him. You're damned if you will.  
He extends his hand, though you are scowling yet  
He'll take you for a walk. "Oh please. I'm not your pet."

28\. "I thought you'd like to finally go outside,"  
He tells you as he helps you down the stair  
Your glaring doesn't work on him, your snide  
And cutting comments fade into the air.  
"The rest have all gone home, though I've stayed here,  
I thought perhaps I'd help them set things right."  
He's blushing, he's embarrassed, that is clear.  
"It's not enough they let the children fight?"  
Now that got in--a wince--smile goes a little tight.

29\. "Now after all of this, you call me child?"  
He looks at you. He's grown, his eyes meet yours  
It's summer and the roses that grow wild  
On Hogwarts' grounds are blooming, attar pours  
Out on the breeze that's freshening the moors--  
It's pine and heather, roses, and the lake.  
Like everything that's beautiful and pure  
His eyes, the scent in every breath you take  
His hand on yours, his mouth--wait, this is a mistake!

30\. He's kissing you! The boy's not even queer!  
You're outside, by the lake, they all could see!  
His tongue's on yours, his hand is in your hair  
Your cock is straining, fighting to break free  
Escape your trousers, rub against his knee--  
"I'm sorry, you're not well--" he says. "I'm fine,"  
You say, "Better than fine." He says, "Kiss me."  
You find his kiss intoxicates like wine,  
You kiss and kiss until you think you'll lose your mind.

31\. He's reaching in your robes--he's found your penis  
You gasp out loud, his thumb is on the head  
He grasps you tight and holds where pleasure's keenest,  
You'd like to lick him--suck his tongue instead.  
He whimpers--you say "Please"--his face is red  
"Please, Harry," you say, right behind his ear.  
You wish that you could fuck him, in your bed  
To take him, from the front or from the rear  
But you are going to come--it's been too many years.

32\. And then he comes; he shudders, and is still  
It's all too much for you, you feel your balls  
Draw up, and with a long-forgotten thrill  
The little death roars through you, and you fall  
Against him, for him, and in love withal.  
"Thank you. I'm sorry, no, you are still sick,"  
You stand and look at him and are enthralled  
"I guess you'd call that thinking with my prick,"  
"No, I'd say 'with your heart,'" you think, "and kiss me quick."

33\. Somehow he hears your thoughts, and there's your kiss  
You chase it with another, and he grins  
He's kissing while he's smiling, God, what bliss  
To lose your heart to one who always wins.  
And this time, he's won you, and all your sins  
And all your darkness, somehow washed away  
By the lake water and the scented winds  
By these delicious kisses, by this day.  
You smile and he smiles back. What else is there to say?

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those things that seemed like _such_ a good idea at the time, and now...I don't know. I wanted to do something really special for [](http://bethbethbeth.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**bethbethbeth**](http://bethbethbeth.dreamwidth.org/)'s 50th birthday, and I was chatting with Rexluscus, who was writing papers about Edmund Spenser, and it...just happened. I wrote a hurt/comfort Snarry fic in [Spenserian stanzas](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spenserian_stanza), opening with an introduction that refers to a famous (?) work of 15th century Yiddish poetry.  
>  Thanks to Rexluscus and Regan_V for beta-reading, and to my non-fandom friend with a black-belt in doggerel. Originally published August 7, 2009.


End file.
